


Attempted murder and cuddling

by Story781



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Crying, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, Men Crying, Sleepy Cuddles, cute stuff, cyanide almost dies and fucking laughs, i think???, thats all she does really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 19:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21104804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Story781/pseuds/Story781
Summary: Hanging out with Dark Brotherhood assassins is a dangerous game but Cyanide's willing to risk it for the sake of making Mathieu smile even a little bit. Also she is an idiot.





	Attempted murder and cuddling

**Author's Note:**

> i lost the vibe somewhere as i went along but the point of "mathieu and cyanide cuddling and being close" is still there, so.

The steel shortsword dropped to the floor with a metallic clank. Mathieu Bellamont fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands.

And weeping. 

He was weeping in the middle of the cold, dark room he shouldn't even be in in the first place. He was confused, helpless and more miserable than usual. 

The woman on the bed moved, slipping off the mattress and kneeled next to him, hands hoovering over his shoulders as if she thought touching him would make him reach for the sword again. 

„Mathieu...?”

Her voice was so soft and sweet, it made his crying harder and his body weaker. He curled into a ball, pressing his palms to his eyes even more, hoping that would keep all troubles of reality away. 

„I'm sor... sorry..." he wheezed between the sobs. 

He raised his head to look at Cyanide's face, the face of a woman who took him home and gave him shelter once more. These round, brown eyes looked back at him in such an unbearably gentle way. As if what he's just done wasn't attempted murder. 

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his body, pulling his head towards her shoulder. Her hand stroked his hair gently and she made quiet, shushing sounds.  
Mathieu allowed himself to sink into her warm embrace and continued his helpless weeping.

„Shhh, it's okay... it's alright, you're alright" she whispered against his head before she pressed a soft kiss to it. Her head then rested on top of his, as she rocked back and forth with him. 

„Moo-o-ommy...” Mathieu whined, his hands moving up Cyanide's back and gripping her white shirt tightly, tugging at the material with every twitch of his body.

The Imperial woman sighed and leaned against the bed behind her. Despite the situation, she was still barely awake, even more so now that she had the man crying against her and keeping her warm in the cold room. Her hand was still stroking his head when she tilted her head back and let it rest on the mattress.  
He was too busy crying to even notice her pose changing.

It continued for what felt like hours, although in reality, it was probably just a few minutes. Mathieu finally grew tired and his sobs became less and less frequent. His head softly fell against Cyanide's shoulder while he shifted into a more acceptable position. The woman was soft and warm, her chest moved with her regular breath. He could hear the rhythmic beating of her heart. So calm. A sign of living. 

Why did he let it keep beating again? 

Because he was weak. And it was all on her. She made him weak with the warmth of her hands on his face, with the way she looked and smiled at him as if she cared. As if he mattered. She made him weak with the ugly laugh, the dinners in front of the warm fire and the flowers she put in their hair. 

Mathieu couldn't keep himself awake much longer. He was exhausted. Physically, because of the crying, and mentally, because of... everything. Because of this weakness, because of this constant, unbearable sadness, feeling of being helpless and below others, the aggression and rage rising inside him when he least wanted it to, when it was least convenient. 

He sobbed one last time and fell into a restless slumber. 

There was no dream this time around. No nightmare. Maybe it was because his sleep wasn't steady enough for one to even begin. He half woke up now and again, only realizing that he is still, sadly, alive before drifting off again. 

Mathieu only really woke up when the feeling of the sun's burning rays on his back became almost painful. He opened his eyes slowly and with a quiet grunt. His body was sore, his legs hurt most, and he felt warm all over.

Even with his eyes open, he couldn't see much. Only a faded white mattress with a brown, ugly-looking cloth, and a pale neck, covered by the collar of a button-up nightshirt. 

What?

He realized the warmth against his stomach was coming form a human, the parts on his back that felt less pained but equally hot were shaped like hands and that the reason for his aching is he spend the whole night on top of another living being. 

His breath hitched as he slowly raised himself from Cyanide's still sleeping form and did his best to escape her soft embrace without waking her. She shifted beneath him and muttered something under her breath. 

Mathieu crawled away, staring at her as he did. As if he was actually scared of waking her up.

He sat up and looked around the room. His shortsword was on the floor near him, it's sharp tip pointed towards the bed. He reached for it and slid it back into the scabbard to his side. 

Oh, why didn't he just slice her open last night? He'd press his hand against her lips, to keep her screams just a little quieter as the cold air of the night rushed against her hot, pulsating organs. 

But he knew the answer to that one. It hasn't changed since a few hours ago. 

He pulled his knees up to his chest and placed his head on top of them. He watched Cyanide sleep for a moment, before he inched closer, sat next to her and gently took her hand. Maybe having her awake would feel less unnerving.  
Her eyes opened and she moved her other hand to cover her lips as she yawned. She turned her head towards Mathieu and gave him a sleepy smile.

„Awh, morning” she greeted and squeezed his hand. „Wasn't expecting to wake up today.”

It was a joke. 

He almost killed her, intended to, and she didn't even seem mad at him. Last night he assumed she was too startled and tired to be properly angry but... no, it seemed as if she just forgave him immediately. 

„I, I...” he started, thrown off guard. „I don't... understand.”

Cyanide smiled gently and sat up, pulling her hands into her lap. 

„I don't really either," she said with a quiet laugh. „I like you, Mattie. In some way. You're cute." 

She moved closer to him, her shoulder touching his. He should be used to the frequent contact by now, but it still made him feel... odd. She was quite a physical woman and he hasn't experienced this amount of closeness since his mommy. And, well. Since Maria. Although she was a bit more timid about it.  
Cyanide wasn't nearly as beautiful as Maria, but she was more open about touching. Mathieu thought he could lay his hand on her thigh if he had the nerve to and she wouldn't even mind much. 

„I think this has something do to with... wanting to take care of people.” Cyanide's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. It had a melancholy to it, one that he's never heard from her before. Granted, they did meet only four days before, so he shouldn't be all that surprised. „I like it when people feel better around me.”

The woman raised her hand and gently stroked his face, her thumb stopping at his lips, just once, just for a second. 

„You're a damaged boy, a hurting soul" she whispered. Her look was warm and calming. Loving. „But your eyes seem to be just a tiny bit brighter when I take your mind off things. Only sometimes, only for a brief moment, before you think about your troubles again, whatever they might be. I want to work on making those moments longer, little by little. Until you can finally feel happy for... maybe a minute or so. For a longer while." 

She turned her head away and let her hand fall to the floor slowly. Her other hand rubbed her arm as she stared at the wall. 

After a moment she covered her mouth with her hand, gently shaking her head. She chuckled and raised herself to her feet and then extended her hand towards him. He took it, without the hesitation that accompanied the first time she's done this, and stood up next to her. 

„But! Nevermind all that. You said you'd walk along the shore with me,” she reminded, putting both her hands behind her back. „When we were downstairs, buying dinner?”

„Oh, right...”

„You still will, right?”

„... yes. Yes, of course" he muttered, nodding to himself. „I... I'll let you get dressed," he added, his voice ringing with embarrassment as he seemed to realize he was in a woman's bedroom when she was still in her nightwear. 

He moved towards the door, eyes avoiding her, hands fidgeting with his sleeve.

„I'll make you a flower crown when we leave!” He heard her promise, as he closed the door behind him. „And we could... hold hands. If you'd like.”


End file.
